An Aunt's Worries
by Razo Imprie
Summary: The day of Robinson's trial through the eyes of Aunt Alexandra.


Today was the day of the trial.

In a way, Alexandra Finch was glad that it had come. It had hovered over them for weeks like a black cloud, never completely forgotten.

The sun had risen as normal, but one might expect it not to, so dark was the mood of the household. It had been an awkward breakfast; no one had much appetite, apart from Jem as always. I was sipping my coffee sourly, frowning across the table at Jem as he shovelled down three eggs. He looked annoyingly pleased with himself.

I knew that the night before Atticus had gone to sit outside Maycomb jail to protect that negro Robinson. I had told him that he wasn't responsible for Tom's wellbeing; he had no obligation to go, but Atticus' sense of right and wrong was at that moment stronger than his sanity. Although I disapproved, and many others would too, I knew that Atticus always did what he thought was right – the part of my brother I loved the most.  
As I learned in the morning, Scout, Jem and that boy from next door, Dill, had sneaked out after him and saved him from what was to be a savage beating by angry townsfolk, desperate to reach Robinson.

Atticus departed as soon as he had eaten, and as Jem, Scout and that boy from next door scurried out the door soon after, I called after them,  
"You all stay in the yard today!".

I peered out the window to see a constant stream of people walking and riding by, all of them toward the courthouse. When a brief gap appeared on the road the children ran across to talk to Miss Maudie.  
I didn't trust her. The children were at such an impressionable young age where they need mature, proper adults to look up to, not someone as uncouth as Maudie.

They hung around the yard til noon when Atticus came home for dinner. Soon after he left, the children followed. I watched out the window to see them glance around before running down the street at full pelt.  
I knew there was nothing I could do to stop them. Their curiosity would not go unsatisfied. Sighing deeply, I withdrew into the house to wait out the time til their return.

...

I sat alone in the living room, absorbed in my needlework, rocking gently in the chair as I sewed up the dress I knew Scout would never wear. Several hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to set over the houses opposite. I scribbled a note to Atticus before calling Calpurnia.

Calpurnia stuck her head around the door of the kitchen.  
"Yes ma'am?", she said.  
"Would you please take this to Atticus at the courthouse?"  
"But, ma'am, I am preparing supper."  
"Calpurnia, there is no point in preparing a meal if there is no one here to eat it."

Calpurnia took the envelope, put on her coat and hat and left promptly.

...

She returned twenty minutes later with Scout, Jem and Dill in tow. Calpurnia explained that they had been up in the coloured balcony. The thought of it made me weak, and I had to sit down. Supper passed in almost complete silence. The only sounds were the occasionally clinking of cutlery on plates and Calpurnia's menacing muttering as she served the children.  
I picked at my food but my appetite had waned since they had returned. The thought of them watching the trial was bad enough, let alone of them sitting in the coloured balcony.

Despite my protests, Scout and Jem insisted that I let them return for the verdict as Atticus said they could. My brother, despite having a brilliant mind, lacked sense in relation to his children. Why couldn't he raise them in the proper manner. I seriously doubted if any other parents in Maycomb let their children sit in on such a morbid affair.

...

It was late when they returned, and I had stayed up to meet them. I knew as soon as I looked at them that they had lost the case. Scout was clinging on to Atticus' hand, her tired feet dragging along the ground. Jem stuck close to Atticus' other side, signs of dried tears still on his face.  
And Atticus.  
In all my years of knowing him I had never seen him look more dejected than he did then. Though his face showed nothing more than weariness, as I learned as a child, his real emotions were shown in his eyes. The disappointment was raw in his eyes and there was something else - a touch of bitterness.

I came out onto the porch.  
"I'm sorry, brother,", I said, quietly.  
Atticus said nothing, and walked past me into the house, Jem still at his side.  
"Is he alright?", I asked, nodding at Jem.  
Atticus replied that he would be.  
I started to say how I disapproved of the children going to the court. Some part of me wanted to start an argument, to see Atticus as his usual self. Soon he went upstairs to bed, utterly woebegone.

And as Jem murmured, "How could they do it, how could they?", I found myself thinking the same thing.


End file.
